


Unpolished

by emmaface



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Rizzles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaface/pseuds/emmaface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane reflects on just how different her and Maura are and wonders how the perfect Maura Isles could be with someone like her, someone so...unpolished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpolished

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first venture into writing Rizzles after the idea popped into my brain and wouldn't leave. It's not perfect but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

You look in the mirror and think you look like shit. Most of your thick, black hair has fallen out of the ponytail you tied it in before going to bed and is not sticking up in all directions. On your face is the imprint of a wrinkle in the pillow case you slept on and your eyes, barely open, are all red. In the mirror your gaze wanders to the woman sleeping in the bed behind you; even in sleep, which usual turns everyone into a wild splay of limbs and hair, she still manages to look pristine and perfect. You can't help but notice that the difference between you extends to your choice of sleeping attire; you wear your shorts and a tank top while she much prefers silk pyjama sets or negligees. 

You look back at yourself in the mirror, to the dark circles under your eyes. Painted there by years of nightmares and what Maura refers to as terrible sleep hygiene. She has a point too since before she became a feature in your bed you more often passed out on the couch surrounded by case files and the odd beer bottle. You've grown used to the dark circles though, viewing them as a permanent feature of your face. They never bothered you; you were never overly concerned with your appearance anyway. In fact Maura often pointed out how your shirts didn't quite match your suit jackets, but things like that just never mattered to you. It does make you wonder though, about what that perfect, pristine and always immaculately dressed (even for bed) woman sharing your bed is doing with you. With someone so...unpolished. 

It's not as if the differences end there, if anything they extend much further. You're hot headed and stubborn as a mule while she is much more composed and practical. She always thinks of things logically while you're busy letting your emotions carry you away. That's why your mouth is always three sentences ahead of your brain while she's still thinking of the most accurate way to phrase things. 

At work too, your approaches are so different that sometimes you wonder how you even became friends in the first place. You let your mind race forwards, making educated guesses and coming up with hunches and theories and hoping that the turn out to be right. She frowns on such practises and would never dream of stating something unless she   
was absolutely sure of it. It had been the only source of friction in your working relationship; you pressing her for answers before she's had a chance to verify the facts.   
The more you think about it the more differences you see. She is totally girlie. Her favourite hobby is shopping and she owns more pairs of shoes than you have worn in your entire life. She loves the ballet, the theatre and art galleries. You, on the other hand, are ever the tomboy. You hate shopping (to the point where you pretty much just let her fill your wardrobe for you) and you'd much rather be in the stands at a baseball game than front row in some stuffy theatre. She also has this impossible amount of tolerance for your mother that you can't even begin to fathom. 

She stirs in her sleep behind you and you turn to look at her full on. You can't help but be completely in awe that this wonderful woman has seen fit to chose you as the one she wants to share her life with; you don't think you'll ever lose that feeling either you've long since accepted that you'll probably always be in awe of her. 

Careful no to wake her before she has completed her full sleep cycle (you know better than that by now) you rejoin her in your bed. Reaching over to push an errant strand of hair out of her face it hits you all over again just how much you love her. How the love you feel for her seems to take up your entire being. The guys at the station love to give you crap and crack jokes about how bad-ass, tough as old boots Rizzoli has been softened to a pile of mush by the Queen of the Dead. You would never admit that you know their right. You also know that you don't care either; that having this amazing woman in your life, loving her and having her love you back is well worth losing a little piece of your rep. 

As you settle onto your pillow watching the steady rise and fall of her chest until you fall asleep it occurs to you that all the differences, and the few similarities that exist too, don't really matter. At the end of the day (or the beginning of it as is more accurate) you just thank your lucky stars that you found each other. You smile at your girlfriend as you adjust the covers over your shoulder and drift off happy in the knowledge that she loves you exactly as you are; unpolished.


End file.
